Page 12 of Lethal Obsession

The long hours spent poring over the photographs of him online.

The lonely nights playing songs that make me think of him.

But suddenly, I realize how ridiculously childish all of that sounds.

How utterly pathetic.

Ever since I was captive in that cell, I’ve believed that beneath his cold facade, Alexei has longed for me with the same savagery I have him.

But now I understand something I never truly considered before: Alexei really doesn’t care.

He never fucking did.

I push past him, tugging my dress into place, stumbling on the stone stairs in the darkness, struggling to see through the tears already beginning to spill down my face.

“Ofelia—”

I furiously shake off the hand he puts out to steady me and bolt down the dark walk in an effort to find a bathroom before anyone sees me.

I’m running so blindly that I crash right into Lars.

“Darling!” His genial smile vanishes the moment he sees my tearstained face. “What the fuck happened?” He pulls me close to him, looking around as if ready to hit any on-comers. It’s so out of character that I half laugh, half sob.

“Nothing.” I almost choke on the word. “Absolutely nothing happened, Lars. Nothing that matters, anyway.”

He stares at me, then his eyes narrow in understanding, and he shakes his head. “Oh, darling.” He tries to pull me close again, but his sympathy only makes it worse.

“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. “Not anymore.”

“Let her go.” Alexei’s voice comes from somewhere behind me, low and dangerous.

I can’t face him.

I push myself away from Lars. “Just let me go.” My voice is half sob. “Please, Lars.”

He stares at me for a moment, then his mouth twists resignedly. “There’s a bathroom on the left.” He stands aside, glaring at Alexei behind me as I push past.

“You absolute bastard,” I hear him say as I reach the bathroom door. In a mirror on the stone wall at the end of the walk, I see Lars’s fists ball at his sides.

“This has nothing to do with you,” Alexei snarls.

Lars’s fist flashes out, hitting Alexei in the jaw with a sickening thud. Alexei makes no effort to defend himself, just rocks back on his heels, facing Lars impassively. Lars looms over him, looking for a moment like he may throw another punch.

Then he pauses.

For a moment the two men stare at each other.

Then, shaking his head, Lars throws his arm around Alexei, crushing him almost violently to his side before turning them both toward the exit.

“Come on, then,” he says, his voice not quite steady. “Let’s go and get fucked up, before Mickey catches sight of you.”

I wait until their footsteps fade before I close the bathroom door.

He’s gone.

I grip the enamel sink and stare at my hectic color and tearstained face in the mirror. My eyes glitter feverishly, and my hair is disheveled, my lips swollen.

Not so perfect anymore.